Blood on the Sand
by Lazerwolf314
Summary: It's been five years since Sam saw Andy McNally; five years since she walked out of his appartment without a backwards glance never to be seen by him again. Until now, after she came back beaten from Afghanistan with Nick, she somehow walks back into his life. AU.
1. Chapter 1

_Felt it was time to start another big one after Lingering Shadows._

_A big thank you to MD14 for looking this over._

_Hope you like it as much as I do._

* * *

The sun rose on the backs of two silent figures.

Before them lay three mounds of dirt, each covered in the smattering of newly grown grass. They were all marked with an identical square gravestone, each of which had only been in place for three months.

The living had also come back with the dead those three months ago.

Standing arm in arm, Andy McNally and Nick Collins stood military stiff, keeping their vigil over their lost friends, speaking without words.

Six had left the sands of Afghanistan three months ago, three in body bags, two standing but broken and one trapped in the depths of fear and loss so deeply, he had remained in a catatonic state since the army had placed them on that plane. Later on in the day, Andy and Nick would visit Jack Sullivan in the hospital and try to coax him into speaking once again. They would likely fail.

Eventually, the sun appeared fully above the horizon and Andy poked her elbow gently into Nick's side.

"We should probably go now," she murmured, her voice hoarse with all the emotions roiling within, the ones she would never let out. The ones neither of them could let out. "Don't want to be late for the first day of the rest of our lives."

"Too true," Nick responded quietly, his tone equally as rough. "First impressions gotta be the best."

There was a half-hearted snigger at that, but neither moved.

Breaking her stiff posture, Andy exhaled softly and rested her head against Nick's shoulder, slouching into Nick's solid support. Loosing his arm from between their bodies, Nick wrapped it tightly around Andy's waist and rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Bye guys," Andy whispered. "See you soon I guess."

"Later," Nick added. And then he turned and led them both to the edge of the cemetery, where two non-descript motorcycles waited.

Breaking apart, each headed for their respective bikes and slid on gracefully. Sharing a sad smile, they revved the engines and pulled away from the field of the dead.

And headed towards the Toronto Police Academy for their first day of becoming officers of the law.

.

**13 Months Later.**

.

Sam scrubbed a tired hand over his ragged face and stared at the reflection in the mirror.

The image there didn't surprise him, although the heavy circles that appeared like bruises under his eyes was a new look. Although, that could likely be blamed on the weariness that filled his bones and the alcohol he had drank to accompany it last night.

Probably not the wisest move, considering today was his first day back on the street following his seven month-long stint undercover and week off post debrief. Technically, it was his first day back on the desk, not the streets, now that he was Detective Sam Swarek of Guns and Gangs. The promotion had only been in place for a few weeks before he had gone on the UC op, so the title and position were still slightly baffling. A part of him missed the uniform in that second.

With a sigh that morphed into a soft growl, Sam filled the sink before him with icy water and splashed it onto his face, wincing when some of the liquid trailed down his chest and prickled gooseflesh.

Ignoring the quick rap at the door (it was only Oliver, and he would just let himself in anyway), Sam rubbed away the cold water with a cloth and left the bathroom. Snagging his duffle from the bed, he made his way to the kitchen and was completely unsurprised to see that Oliver was already at home, chugging away at a mug of coffee and reading the paper.

"That's mine," Sam remarked and Oliver looked up with a grin.

"The coffee or the paper? And either way it's your own damn fault for leaving the coffee out in the open. You and I both know you have the best stuff around. And say thanks to Sarah for it, by the way," Oliver shot back, taking another smug sip.

Then he looked Sam up and down and the smirk dampened.

"Brother, you look like hell," Oliver told him pointedly.

"Thanks Ollie, it's good to see you too," Sam snarked, pulling another mug from the shelf and filling it with still-warm coffee from the pot. He drank down the first half like medicine and ignored Oliver's searching gaze.

"Fine than, be like that. So, first day back; Jerry's been whiny for months. Please tell me you'll fix it," Oliver said pleadingly, eyes wide with what Sam could only imagine Oliver believed and hoped was sorrow.

Which pulled a laugh from Sam at the sight, knowing all too well what Oliver said was likely true.

"I'll see what I can do," Sam told his friend with amusement clear in his tone. "But you know how Jerry is."

Oliver groaned and nodded, false sorrow etched into his features.

"Let's get going," Sam told him after a few moments of comfortable silence. Dropping his finished coffee mug into the sink to be washed later, Sam took the still half full cup from Oliver's hands, ignored the indignant protests and added it next to his own. Sam took one look at Oliver's pout and sighed, before leading the way to the door.

"Oh, by the way, 15 got a new batch of rookies while you were under," Oliver began conversationally as they made their way to where the Shaw minivan was parked in Sam's driveway.

Sam's truck was currently in the shop; after spending months parked in Sarah's garage in St. Catherine's with minimal use, Sam had discovered its alignment was off the first day he drove it home. With a few mumbled curses, he had taken it to the shop four days ago, only to be informed that it was time for the truck to undergo a full oil change and maintenance. And it still wasn't ready, much to Sam's displeasure.

All of which amounted to another day riding the Minivan Express with Oliver.

Dropping himself into the passenger seat, Sam shrugged on the seatbelt and gestured for Oliver to continue.

"Yeah? They any good?"

"Well, two of them, Epstein and Diaz, are basically idiots. I mean, they mean well and they're trying, but I honestly never thought I would see a pair of rookies who would screw up as much as they do since we were rooks. It would almost be laughable if it wasn't sad."

Sam snorted and looked out the window as the streets of Toronto flew by.

"Any others?" he asked.

"Yeah, two more," there was a pause and Sam missed the look Oliver shot him out of the corner of his eye.

Oliver cleared his throat and continued. "These two, they are some of the best rooks I've seen in years."

"Really?" Sam asked when Oliver fell silent again, shifting his gaze from outside to peer at his friend. Sam knew that this was high praise when it came from Ollie and was instantly intrigued.

"Yeah. They're both ex-military and pick up on things faster than some of the senior officers. And they actually listen to orders."

Chuckling at the slight reverence in Oliver's proclamation, Sam shook his head and went back to staring out the window.

"Sammy, there's one more thing," Oliver began hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"Just thought I should warn you ahead of time; one of the good rookies is… Andy."

Sam went completely still and his heart started to hammer like a drum in his ears. Out of anything Oliver could have possibly said, this was the lowest on the list. And certainly the one most likely to stun him to speechlessness.

Andrea McNally was at 15 Division.

The last time he had seen her was nearly five years ago.

And it had been five years ago since she had walked out of his apartment without a backward glance and he had gone undercover the next day, knowing in his bones she wouldn't be back.

Not after the fight that broke them.

But he had never expected, once he came back from one of his shorter undercover, with the echoing remnants of loss and love still in his heart, for her to be gone. Not just moved out of her small apartment on the outskirts of the city and into a place somewhere closer to school (U of T, taking a bachelor of political sciences when Sam had first met her), but gone from the city.

Gone from the country.

Sam had learned from her father, in broken bits of angry (and drunken, which saddened Sam, knowing how hard Andy had tried to get her dad sober), conversation, that Andy had dropped out of school shortly after Sam had departed and enlisted in the Canadian Forces. And had shipped off to Afghanistan with her unit mere weeks before Sam came back.

(He still and always would regret not following her out his door that night and could not believe how he had missed her by only a mile and a minute as they say).

Sam had been under the belief for years that he would never see Andy again.

Seemed like the universe was conspiring against him once more.

* * *

_*To clarify the AU timeline: five years in the past, Sam and Andy had a blow out fight just a handful of months into their relationship which resulted in her walking out and him taking a UC position he'd been offered and declined previously, the next day. When he comes back, about seven weeks later, Andy is gone. She remains in the army for three and a half years before being shipped home and the story begins about three months after that.*_

_Any and all comments/concerned are greatly welcomed._


	2. Chapter 2

_Again, thanks goes to MD14 for looking this over._

_I'm a little nervous about the end of this; honest opinions would make my day._

* * *

The remainder of the drive to 15 was spent in stilted silence; Oliver trying to fill the dead air with a handful of half-hearted attempts at small talk and Sam ruminating on the implications of Andy being back in Toronto (not to mention working out of the same division as him).

A part of him, the part of him that hadn't truly been screwed on straight since she had walked out, was rejoicing. Loudly. Perhaps there was still a chance for them and as much as he hated to admit it, he wanted that chance. He'd be the first to admit it had taken too long to admit that fact to himself.

But the rest of him, the level headed and analytical part, was not so sure. After all, it had been five years.

The resulting mixture was a deep feeling of dread and anticipation swirling unpleasantly in the pit of his stomach. It was unsettling.

Sam was jerked from his thoughts when Oliver pulled into the parking lot and stopped the minivan with an ominous sounding grind.

"Ollie, that beast isn't sounding that good!" one of the beat officers called as they pulled out of one of the cruisers spaces. "I think it's time to put the girl down; do the merciful thing!" Before Oliver had a chance to respond, the officers had driven by cackling.

Sam couldn't help the grin from spreading when Oliver started muttering angrily under his breath.

"I think he's right Ollie, be kind to the old girl," Sam quipped and snorted at the look he got from his friend. It was half angry and half panicked.

"Don't you dare bring this up around Zoe. She'll get ideas and before you know it, I'll be driving a dinky little blue car. No joke!"

Sam pondered this for a second as he retrieved his duffle from the back. "I don't know what's worse Ollie. That you're driving the thing in the first place or the fact you think a 'dinky' car wouldn't be an improvement."

Easily ducking out of range of Oliver's irritated swipe, Sam laughed his way into the station, all thoughts of Andy forgotten.

Along the hallway to the locker room, he was stopped several times by officers and detectives alike for the requisite 'congratulations' that followed every successful op. Smiling and nodding his appreciation, Sam quickly fell back into the boots of Detective Swarek as he spoke to his colleagues on autopilot. He felt a surge of something akin to irritation when Oliver was able to sweep right into the locker room without being stopped, but knew there was nothing he could do to stop people from congratulating him.

He knew he would face more of the celebratory claps on the back during Parade, throughout the day and would likely be invited for several rounds at the Penny tonight. The tradition and comraderie of his fellow cops usually filled Sam with an immense amount of pride of being part of the law, but today, it simply felt smothering.

Then again, today was different than the other times he had successfully completed a UC op.

Something was just different. (If he was being honest, he knew just what it was. However, Sam wasn't quite sure he was ready for honest).

Finally managing to find the escape into the locker room, Sam let out a sigh, the amusement from his banter with Oliver already fading. Dropping his duffle onto the bench in front of his locker, Sam stared at the blue metal for a long moment without moving. Then he spun the lock and pulled it open.

Taking in the familiar photos that lined the inside door, Sam felt something inside of him relax for the first time since he had gone under. Sure, he knew that he was built for undercover work, able to be the chameleon with ease, but Sam always felt a little bit of relief when he finally returned to 15 after long periods of time.

It was like coming home to visit family after being alienated from them.

The pictures of him and Oliver and Jerry, sometimes with Noelle and Frank, served as a safety rod, a visual way to ground him after floating free for so long. Along with them was two pictures of Sarah, one with him and one with her husband and two little girls.

With a weary sigh, Sam quickly shed his leather jacket and set it on the bench, knowing that he would be stuck on the desk all day catching up with paperwork, before he unzipped his duffle and pulled out his service weapon. Clipping it on his belt, Sam then slid a hand into the pocket of his jeans and wrapped his fingers around his badge.

Lifting it to eye level, he looked at it for a long moment, taking in the gleam of burnished metal, and then hooked it to his belt alongside his gun. Picking up the duffle that contained only a spare change of clothes, Sam dropped it inside the maw of his locker and swung it shut.

Time to visit Jerry. With a quick glance at his watch, Sam guessed he had about five minutes before Parade started, so he snagged his jacket and headed out.

As he was leaving the men's room, he accidentally bumped shoulders with a tall and unfamiliar officer who was just rushing in from outside.

"Sorry, sir," the man mumbled, reaching out a quick hand as if to steady Sam. By then, Sam had already stepped away and met the stranger's eyes.

"No problem," he said, seeing the panic in the young man's eyes. "What's your name?"

"Diaz, sir. Chris Diaz. I'm really sorry sir," Diaz stuttered, his hands flapping uselessly before him and Sam had to fight a laugh. Oliver had been spot on about this one.

"Don't worry about it," Sam responded, taking pity on the young man, who happened to be sporting the look of a kicked puppy. The instantaneous rush of relief that covered the young officer's face made Sam shake his head as he walked away.

Skirting the edges of the officers bullpen, Sam made his way for the D's office and tapped on the doorframe.

The figure hunched over the nearest desk grumbled something unintelligible that sounded vaguely like 'just a minute.'

"Is it just me, or have you forgotten how to say words while I was gone?" Sam questioned sarcastically, flashing dimples when Jerry lifted his head and spun in his seat.

Jerry just growled in response, though Sam detected a gleam of amusement in Jerry's eyes. Rising from his chair, Jerry strode to the doorway and pulled Sam into a quick, one armed hug before stepping back and giving him the once over.

"You look like shit," Jerry concluded cheerfully.

"Oliver said the same thing, but I bet I look better than both your ugly faces put together," Sam shot back, striding to his desk and slinging his jacket over the back of his chair. He did groan once, loudly, when he saw the stacks of case files already waiting for him.

"You did this, didn't you?" Sam accused, rounding on Jerry, who looked on with a shit-eating grin.

"I don't know what you are insinuating Detective Swarek, as I am Homicide, not Guns and Gangs," Jerry told him, all too amused by the situation. "Welcome back!" he crowed.

"Thanks Jerry," Sam sighed, eyeing the files with trepidation. He knew exactly who to blame to pile of paperwork on, his partner (who was none too pleased when Sam had told her he was going under. He had to bet it had something to do with the amount of paperwork she could no longer find a way to fork off on him), Detective Jo Rosati, who just happened to be married to Jerry's partner, Detective Luke Callaghan. There were times when Sam and Jerry would have to vacate the D's office when the looks between the two blond haired detectives got to the point of sickening. "Say thanks to Rosati if you see her first for me, will you?"

"Of course my friend," Jerry all but sang.

"Oliver was right," Sam told him as they made their way to Parade. "You really do get whiny when I'm gone."

"Hey! I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about," Jerry sniped as they slid into the back of the already full Parade.

Just in time too, as Frank stepped up to the podium just as Jerry finished speaking.

"Settle down everyone, settle down," Frank called, his voice rising easily over the mumblings from the crowd. The room fell quiet with a snap.

Frank smiled slightly and looked around. Catching Sam's eye, the staff sergeant gave a tiny nod of approval before continuing.

"I'd like to say welcome back and congratulations to Detective Sam Swarek for his successful work on the undercover operation that took down Jamie Brennan and nearly all of his drug related affiliates."

A loud round of cheering and clapping rose as all faces turned to seek him out. Ducking his head as the wave of approval washed over him, Sam's eyes danced around the room as he took in the gazes levelled his way.

He had almost made the complete circuit of the room with his gaze when he saw her.

Shock smashed into his chest like a steel rod.

She stood to the far side of the room, arms folded across her chest and standing straight and tall. At ease, like the soldier she used to be. Not the easy slouch and relaxed posture of the girl he knew.

But what was most shocking was her face.

The right corner of her lip was quirked downwards drastically, marred by the centimeter long scar cut deep into flesh. He wondered what had caused it. Her expression was impassive, blank even. And her eyes, what Sam recalled to be the most expressive and sparkling feature, were carefully cold and watchful.

She met his gaze levelly and dispassionately. Tension hummed in his ears.

After several long seconds, as the clapping petered off, she eventually inclined her head in a small nod of respect and acknowledgement.

At her side was a man not much taller than her, standing just as straight and stiff as her, the only difference being that he kept his hands in the pockets of his uniform pants. If Sam wasn't so busy staring at Andy, he would've noticed the way the man looked back and forth between the two of them, his gaze searching and after a few long seconds, understanding.

When someone clapped him on the back, Sam startled slightly and looked away to see who it was, and when he looked back, Andy was watching the front of the room again, the dismissal clear in her body language.

"Good work Detective," Frank spoke softly, but his voice carried across the room.

Still rattled by what had just passed with Andy, Sam could only nod his thanks.

Registering little of what Frank said as the staff sergeant continued with Parade, Sam leaned back against the wall. Letting the dull updates of the day wash over him, he fought off a shudder of cold that had little to do with temperature.

He no longer recognized her and it was chilling.

It was only when several chairs scraped back and the room echoed with the sounds of movements did Sam jerk from his daze. Blinking, he moved on automatic from Parade room and allowed the flow of bodies to push him outside.

As he made his way through the bullpen, he kept an eye open for Andy, and was rewarded when he saw her heading towards the equipment room with other man Sam did not recognize.

Moving quickly, he managed to intercept her; when he moved in front of her, she promptly slid to a halt and crossed her arms. Suddenly finding his tongue stuck, Sam shifted awkwardly, all the words he wanted to say sticking in his throat and knowing full well this was definitely not the time and place to say it.

"You good Andy?" the man said; Collins according to his nametag.

"Yeah, fine. I'll see you later," Andy murmured. Collins nodded once, raked his gaze once over Sam before walking away.

They stood in an awkward silence, him not knowing what to say and her not willing to break the silence.

"Um, hi," Sam started.

"Hello," Andy responded quietly. Formally.

"Can we talk, later maybe?"

She just slowly blinked at him with the calculating eyes.

"McNally! Hurry up!" Noelle called from down the hall, upper body peering around the corner towards the car port, impatients flaring. "Oh, hey Sam! See you at the Penny?"

Taken by surprise, Sam fumbled for a second before spitting out, "of course!"

"Good," Noelle said before turning and walking away.

"The T.O. calls, time to go," Andy told him promptly, swirling on her heel and striding away.

Sam couldn't bring himself to chase after for the answer she didn't give.

Instead, he ducked his head and headed back to the D's office, tail between his legs.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thanks go out to MD14 for looking this over._

_I'd appreciate opinions on the flashback; the rest of it will be posted next chapter unless you feel it should be here._

_My apologies for the delay on this one._

* * *

Striding down the hallway towards where Noelle had just vanished, Andy fought valiantly to battle back the swirl of emotions that had risen in her chest. Refusing to look back at Sam, despite the little voice (that betrayer) whispering in her ear to turn around and have that talk and just be near him again, she turned the corner and simply stopped.

Closing her eyes, she clenched her fists at her sides and took a deep breath. Holding it for several long seconds, she finally exhaled and felt slightly steadier.

She had told herself she wouldn't do this, that she was above this.

Letting the sounds of the station wash over her, she sighed.

_Control McNally_! the voice of her base commander snap through her head and she nearly smiled. It was all she needed to push the tangle of hurt and lust and love and everything in between, back into the box of steel determination. There it would sit, if she had any say about it, and never be opened again.

God only knew what would happen if it did.

Blinking her eyes open, she wasn't surprised when she saw Nick's shadowed gaze peering down at her.

He didn't say a word, just regarded her.

(He would never ask, never pry into her thoughts, and Andy thought that was perhaps what she loved the most about him. She would do the same for him, and in their lack of talking, they could communicate seamlessly).

"Oliver's going to be mad if you're late," she told him steadily.

His lips quirked in a wry smirk, instantly knowing she was on solid ground with her glib response and quirked and eyebrow.

"I could say the same about Noelle," he rumbled.

"Touchè," Andy acknowledged in amusement. "Later."

Nick just lifted a shoulder in agreement before splitting off to where Oliver waited impatiently.

Andy slid into the passenger seat of cruiser 1507 next to Noelle and didn't react to the pointedly heated look she received. Instead, she sat primly with her notebook out and ready to work.

.

Sliding behind his desk, Sam let out a deep breath and closed his eyes for the briefest of moments.

It would do no good for him to be thinking about her today.

"How'd that go?" Jerry asked as he peered at Sam, concern echoing in his features.

"'Bout as well as you'd think," he murmured.

"So. Horribly then."

Sam snorted at the bitter truth.

"Sammy!" an over joyful female voiced called from opposite the D's bullpen and skittered its way down Sam's spine. All thoughts of McNally instantly fled as he gritted his teeth a prepared to meet the slight blonde tornado headed his way. Sam caught Jerry's quick dive into a file out of the corner of his eye.

"Jo," he responded cordially as he turned in his seat to face his oncoming partner.

She grinned toothily. "Miss me?" she asked with a quirk of her eyebrows.

"It was like I couldn't function without you. I see the same was true of you," Sam shot back with a not so subtle glance at the stack of files on his desk.

The grin dropped but the amusement hovered in Jo's eyes. "Ha," she muttered, doing a quick scan of Sam with her eyes, assuring herself he was in one piece, before taking a seat at her own desk.

Both of them settled in, pleased with the exchange of barbs. It was their own way for being certain the other was okay and it worked for them.

But as the quiet worked its way into Sam's brain (mindless page turn, scrawl an illegible signature for some meaningless acquisition by 15's Gun's and Gangs division, thanks Jo, read next page and so on), things began to tumble through his head.

In particular, how the girl Sam had chased down six blocks five years ago had morphed into this cold stranger.

.

_"Oliver, turn that crap off, will you?" Sam groaned as the soft roll of country music filled the cab of the cruiser, muted beneath the crackle of the two way, but still present._

_Next to him, Oliver just grinned happily and sucked on his second coffee of the night._

_Grumbling, Sam stretched his fingers against the wheel and resisted the urge to punch the radio into silence. While Oliver may be his best friend, Sam knew without a shadow of a doubt after riding with him for three years, that Oliver would surpass bitchiness if Sam messed with his music._

_As they rolled along the streets of the city's upper edges, the full moon hung heavy in the sky and the underbelly of society shrunk away from the cruiser._

_"So, how's Tanya?" Oliver asked coyly._

_Sam shot him a look and was about to respond, when the smirk dropped off Oliver's face and he shot upright in his seat. "Look out!"_

_Whipping his head around to see what was coming, Sam slammed on the brakes and registered the sight of a black hoodie clad figure racing across the street in front of the cruiser. As they skidded to a halt, Sam swearing violently and Oliver clutching at the holy shit handle, the person reared backwards from the oncoming car._

_Not fast enough._

_"Shit!" Sam exclaimed, slamming a palm against the top of the wheel as whoever it was was suddenly rolling across the hood of the cruiser._

_Finally, after what seemed like ages, the car screeched to a stop and the person flew off the hood and landed in a heap several meters in front of them. As the headlights lit upon the dark fabric, Sam threw the car into park and scrambled out, following Oliver's lead._

_As soon as Sam's boots hit the ground, the figure had already shot to their feet and tore off in the darkness, cutting across the street and into a small park._

_Sharing a split second look with Oliver, Sam nodded and shot off in pursuit, Oli racing around the car and hopping into the driver's seat._

_Legs pounding against the damp grass in steady discord, Sam ignored the twinge in his side as he poured on the speed and fought to catch up with whoever it was. They easily leapt over the surrounding fence and Sam didn't even bother to curse as he flew over it after them. Barely managing to stick the landing as his forward motion carried his upper body onward, Sam pumped his legs and instantly started to go faster on the solid pavement of the neighboring street._

_Tossing a quick look over their shoulder, Sam only caught a flash of brown eyes surrounded by the deep hood, before the figure took a sudden sharp right into a nearby alleyway._

_Sam raced after them and a distant part of his mind registered Oliver shooting down the street behind them, intent on cutting the runner off._

_The rest of him was too focused on the chase to pay heed._

_After several long moments of racing in a dizzying maze of back alleys and cutting across streets just a head of Oliver, Sam had managed to gain ground on the runner. But not that much._

_He could hear the breath whistling between the teeth and his heart pounding in his lungs and at the moment, he vowed that he would start running for real every day. Because really, this was embarrassing. _

_Finally and completely fed up with chase, Sam gave it all he could as he caught sight of the end of the alley leading to a new and rather busy street. As he focused in on the suspect, a car blazed across his vision, going too fast for anyone to get hit by and walk away from._

_Ducking his head, Sam lengthened his stride, timed it, and leapt._

_Tackling the runner full in the back, Sam heard the muffled "oof," explode as they both went down. Rolling a few meters across the dirty ground, Sam twisted so he skidded to a halt on his knees, already reaching to secure the runners hands._

_As he fought against the struggling person (Christ, they were flopping around like a fish; just as slippery as one too), Oliver stopped the cruiser in the mouth of the alley and jumped out._

_"Let me go!" the figure shouted, surprising Sam when the voice was that of a female. "Let me go, I didn't do anything!"_

_"Andy?" Oliver asked, crouching near Sam as the girl finally managed to flip onto her back and glared up the two officers. Sam shot an incredulous look at his friend._

_"You know her?"_

_"Yeah, this is Tommy McNally's kid," Oliver murmured. "What are you doing out here little McNally? And why did we chase you six blocks?"_

_"Nothing," the girl muttered, shrugging off Sam's restraining hands and sitting up. She couldn't have been more than nineteen Sam guessed. "And how many times have I asked you not to call me that, Oli?" _

_"Over a hundred," Oliver shot back (not commenting on her lack of answers), gaining his feet along with Sam and the surly teen. "And when have I listened?"_

_She stuck her tongue out at him, shifting the backpack on her shoulder._

_Oliver's eyes narrowed in on it, but didn't comment. Instead, he said "Sam, this is Andy McNally, Tommy's daughter. I babysat (there was a groan at the word babysat) her when I was his rookie; part of initiation he said," he paused for a moment._

_"What the hell are you doing out here little McNally? And I'm going to tell Tommy that you've been playing in traffic. You bounced pretty impressively off the cruiser," Oliver remarked and Sam noted the genuine worry in his tone._

_"I'm fine," she hissed, anger and fire flashing in her eyes._

_Oliver held up his hands in the universal sign of peace and Sam saw the look of calculated understanding. "Of course you are." Steering the conversation in a much more neutral direction, he turned to Sam, who was up until that moment standing uselessly to the side. "Andy, this is my friend Sam Swarek. Sam, this is Andy."_

_"Hello," Sam murmured, still a little stunned from the direction this night had suddenly veered in. He stuck out his hand on instinct to shake and she responded in kind as she looked him up and down. Under the piercing brown gaze, he felt like a bug beneath a microscope._

_But he was distracted when they released hands and he found his wet. Peering down at his fingers, he cursed when he saw that they were covered with blood._

_"Get the first aid kit Oliver," he snapped, reaching out with the bloody hand to peel back the sweatshirts sleeve, ignoring her quick step away to hold her still without touching the injury, and cursed again when he saw the grime incrusted wound. When Andy winced away from his touch, he looked up again to meet her eyes._

_"Trust me," he whispered as Oliver headed for the cruiser. "Let me help you."_

_For a long moment, she didn't say anything and blood ran slowly down her arm to chill Sam's skin._

_Then she nodded and slid into a sitting position against the dirty brick all, finally looking away._


End file.
